


A Few of Your Favorite Things

by beesknees (daffodil23)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas AU, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Gift Giving, Holiday Mixtape 2017, M/M, SPN Holiday Mixtape, Secret Identity, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 20:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12872892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daffodil23/pseuds/beesknees
Summary: He quickly grabbed the candy box and card and marched two cubicles down to Meg’s office. “I thought I didn’t sign up for Secret Santa,” he said, sweeping into her space.“Good morning to you, too, Clarence,” Meg purred, spinning around in her chair. She eyed the box clutched in his hands. “As far as I remember, you weren’t on the sign-up sheet.”Castiel sighed, balancing the candy and card in one hand. He brushed the fingers of his other hand through his dark, unkempt hair, causing the strands to curl up more chaotically. “Is this from you, then?”





	1. Monday, December 18

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, [Sam](https://wanderingcas.tumblr.com/), (as always) for looking this over for me. You're the best!
> 
> Thanks to the mods of the SPN Holiday Mixtape challenge for such a fun and chill experience.

Castiel walked into his cubicle at four minutes to eight. He gently set his cup of to-go coffee on the edge of his desk and tugged off his overcoat from his broad shoulders. Swiveling to the right, he took a step to the corner, placing the tattered trench on the coatrack.

Shuffling forward, with blue eyes glued to the space in front of his computer, he absent-mindedly pulled his rolling desk chair away from the laminated desk. A gold-colored box with metallic green and red gift bows sat atop the faux mahogany in front of his keyboard. A deep burgundy red envelope leaned against the gold box with his name printed in boxy letters.

Castiel lowered his ass into the cushy chair, and pulled himself toward the present, digging the heels of his slip-on Blundstones into the worn and faded carpet beneath the chair’s wheels.

Long, tanned fingers plucked up the envelope, flipping it over to reveal the sealed flap. A manicured thumbnail slipped under the edge and ripped up the corner with haste. Castiel’s index finger wedged itself inside the envelope and separated the top seam. He drew out a slick card with a jolly depiction of Santa Claus on the front. The man’s twinkling eyes squinted in a wink, and his bushy beard looked soft and fluffy; his mouth pulled into a wide smile. It was an atypical portrayal of St. Nick.

Castiel worked the card open, and found a message inside:

 

_Pa rum pum pum pum_  
Secret Santa has come.  
Pa rum pum pum pum  
the fun has begun!

 

He turned the card to the back, looking for more writing or a signature but found none. He picked up the envelope, examining the handwriting on the front. Of course, he didn’t recognize it.

He was almost positive he hadn’t signed up for the office’s Secret Santa exchange this year. Plus, the gifts he received last year were so generic. Snowman ornament. Bottle of cheap brandy. Chocolate Santa.

So, why was he getting gifts this year?

Tossing the card and envelope aside, Castiel reached for the golden box. In bold, black lettering _Annedore’s Fine Chocolates_ was scrawled across the top, hinting at the box’s contents.

He quickly grabbed the candy box and card and marched two cubicles down to Meg’s office. “I thought I didn’t sign up for Secret Santa,” he said, sweeping into her space.

“Good morning to you, too, Clarence,” Meg purred, spinning around in her chair. She eyed the box clutched in his hands. “As far as I remember, you weren’t on the sign-up sheet.”

Castiel sighed, balancing the candy and card in one hand. He brushed the fingers of his other hand through his dark, unkempt hair, causing the strands to curl up more chaotically. “Is this from you, then?” he asked, shoving the box forward.

Meg laughed. “I haven’t even started any of my Christmas shopping yet.”

Castiel regarded her suspiciously. “Aren’t you in charge of the Secret Santa exchange?”

Meg scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Doesn’t mean I participate.” She rotated her chair again, facing frontways to her computer. “Go ask Red. She’s always doing shit out of the goodness of her heart.”

“Ask me what?” With a cheerful smile, Charlie bounced around the partition of Meg’s office. “Ooh, Annedore’s!”

Castiel relinquished the gold box to fingers polished with red and white stripes and blinked repeatedly at the obnoxious green sweater his co-worker was wearing. A smug looking reindeer was plastered across the front. Could reindeer even be smug? He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Did you give me this Secret Santa gift, Charlie?”

Charlie tore the sticky seal from the side of the box and carefully lifted the lid. The heavenly scent of sweet milk chocolate jammed the small space. Castiel’s mouth salivated.

“Y’know that’s not how it works,” Charlie replied. “If I got you, I wouldn’t tell ya on the first day.” She fished a chocolate chunk out of its respective spot inside the box.

“I didn’t sign up.”

Charlie moaned as she bit into the chocolate; a gooey, red syrup dribbled out onto her bottom lip. “Mmm, cherries cordial,” she said, peeking her tongue out to lap at the mess. “Well, it wasn’t me. I got someone else.”

“Oh.” Castiel reached inside the candy box and retrieved his own blob of goodness. He brought it to his mouth and took the smallest of bites. The moment the mixture of smooth chocolate and overly sweet cherries touched his tongue, he was overcome with a sense of nostalgia. It tasted just like the cherries cordials his grandmother used to make at Christmas when he was a kid. It was amazing and nothing like the box you got at Wal-Mart for ninety-eight cents. These were creamy and so delectable. How did the Secret Santa know?

“What Clarence here is really wanting to ask is whether your little crush on him has evolved into secret gift-giving,” Meg stated deviously.

“Meg!” Castiel admonished, whipping around to glare at his friend. “I wondered nothing of the sort!” A wicked giggle bubbled up from Meg in reply. He tried to convey a look of sorry with his eyes at Charlie.

“Although Cas _is_ dreamy, still a lesbian,” Charlie said while pinching his cheek lightly. “Someone must like you, though, ‘cause Annedore’s ain’t cheap.” She returned the box of chocolates to Castiel’s hands and took the card. “What’s this bad boy say?”

“It’s just a rhyme,” Castiel remarked.

Castiel hated surprises. He had no patience for them. Ever since he was younger, any gift-giving holidays (birthdays, Christmas, et cetera) were the worst. He enjoyed everything he received, of course, just not the anticipation leading up to the day.

He really hoped this person revealed themselves soon and without the agony of anymore guessing games.

She scanned the few lines inside. “Huh,” Charlie huffed. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait to find out.” She Vulcan saluted as she backpedaled out of Meg’s cubicle. “All a part of the Christmas magic!”

And that was the problem.


	2. Tuesday, December 19

Walking into Alchemy Coffee always felt like being wrapped up in a big hug. The atmosphere was always warm and welcoming. Everyone working there was friendly and provided the utmost in service. Going into a Starbucks always felt stilted and rushed, and Castiel balked at the task. He’d choose Alchemy Coffee any day of the week with its fluid ambiance over the big chains.

It was probably why he found himself in the coffee shop each weekday. Today was no exception.

Castiel blew warm air into his hands as he stepped past the front door, listening to the tinkling of the overhead bell fading. He cursed himself for forgetting his gloves at home that morning. The nip of Old Man Winter made its presence known, even now, a few days before the Winter Solstice. Luckily, he was snuggled tight in his cashmere scarf. Alchemy was notorious for their Cold Brews, but something about ice in his coffee on a day like today didn’t sit right. He needed his coffee piping hot.

Several customers lounged in overstuffed chairs, nodding a hello as he walked to the counter.

When Castiel’s azure eyes caught the dark brown of his favorite barista, the latter widened acutely. A huge smile split the young man’s face. “Hello, Kevin.”

“Hey, Cas!” Kevin exclaimed. “Good to see you.”

“Thank you. You as well.”

“The usual?” Kevin asked, reaching for a to-go cup.

“You know me so well,” Castiel said, smiling. He grabbed his tri-fold wallet from the back pocket of his slacks and pulled out a ten dollar bill.

Kevin returned moments later with a raspberry almond scone on a dessert plate and a black coffee. In the young barista’s hand, sticking out under the scone was a burgundy envelope. Castiel’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head upon seeing the familiar paper container.

Castiel offered the currency to Kevin without really looking at him. He was fixated on what was under the dessert plate.

“It’s already been paid for,” Kevin piped up. “Your Secret Santa was in here earlier. Told me to give you this.” He handed over all three items.

Castiel’s eyes winked in disbelief several times at the objects resting in his palms, unthinking. He was speechless. This person knew he liked Alchemy? Without a doubt, he knew this _Secret Santa_ must be someone close to him at work, but who? He wasn’t social with very many people. Charlie and Meg were his best friends at work, but they both denied having anything to do with this.

Anyone going through his office garbage can could easily see he had a slight obsession with the coffeehouse. He did come here every day, after all.

Finally finding his voice, Castiel stuttered, “Did...did they leave a name or anything?” Kevin shook his head in the negative. “Can you tell me if they are a male or female, at least?”

Kevin chuckled. “No-can-do. Their secret dies with me.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes begrudgingly. “You just lost your tip for today.”

Kevin laughed harder. “S’ok. Your Secret Santa tipped extra.”

Castiel growled in disapproval, turning away from the counter to find a seat. “Don’t forget to read the card!” Kevin loudly reminded him.

He plopped down in a green high-backed chair with yellow rivets along the front of the arms and across the sides of the body. Gingerly, he set his scone and coffee down, ignoring them for the time being. His stomach grumbled in protest.

Castiel stared for a moment too long at his name on the front of the envelope, wondering if this mystery person had indeed written it. He would be lying if he said his curiosity wasn’t piqued. Was this going to be an every weekday occurrence until Christmas? What about the weekend? Wait, did this person know where he lived? A shiver ran down his spine at the thought. If they knew he frequented Alchemy, how hard would it be to follow him home one night?

His fingers trembled as he tore into the burgundy envelope. He removed an identical card, the same as yesterday’s. Santa’s ruddy face peered up at him in false glee. Inside, a new message glinted in the subdued lighting of the coffee shop:

 

 _This is a gift especially for you,_  
I’m your Secret Santa,  
bet you can’t guess who.  
Accept this gift with a smile on your face,  
And expect another one soon in its place.

 

 Well, that answered whether they would continue after today. He blushed at the thought of receiving more gifts.

Castiel scrutinized the card for any other clues that may help identify the sender, but it was the same as before. Absolutely nothing.

He scowled at his scone sitting on the table beside his seat. Why wasn’t it forthcoming with all the answers he needed? _Maybe because it’s not a sentient being, you idiot,_ he thought. Swiping the pastry from its plate, he brought it to his mouth in frustration and ripped into the fluffy crust.

Castiel stewed in silence as he hungrily shoveled the scone into his face, pondering a way to best this master deceiver. He was a great puzzle solver; he just needed to start thinking like a Secret Santa. But how? He knew nothing of this person aside from the fact he or she hobbied in dumpster diving, and Castiel loathed the thought of meticulously picking out a perfect gift for each day.

He was _so_ screwed.


	3. Wednesday, December 20

When Castiel walked into his cubicle that morning, another card and a small box were on display in front of his computer.

He casually put his coffee cup down on the flat surface and shrugged out of his trenchcoat.

Mere seconds after hanging his coat, Charlie bounded into his office like an elf on a sugar high. “How goes the twelve days of Christmas? Get any maids a-milking yet?” she asked waggling her eyebrows.

Castiel rolled his eyes at the terrible joke. “I doubt this will carry on for nine more days, seeing as there are only five days to Christmas left,” he proclaimed, waving a hand to his desk. He heard a sharp squeal come from his co-worker as she bounced like a puppy in excitement. “Would you like me to open it with you here?”

“Pretty please?”

Castiel took two long strides to his desk and removed the card from its spot leaning against the carefully wrapped gift. Inside the burgundy envelope, he found another identical Santa card. This time, the message read:

 

 _I’m prancing and dancing_  
all over the place  
because I’ve left you a gift  
with ‘nary a trace.  
I’m really quite proud of  
the way that I’ve been  
able to stay secret--it  
sure makes me grin.

 

Castiel smiled in return at the short poem.

“Ooh, what does it say?” Charlie queried, wriggling her fingers out in front of her in a silent request to look at the card.

“Much the same as the others. Short rhyme about leaving the present.” Charlie snatched the card from his hands as he went to reach for the perfectly wrapped gift.

Castiel slowly lifted the corner of the smooth paper littered with brightly decorated Christmas trees and tore it away. He tossed it into the wastebasket beside his desk filled with Alchemy Coffee to-go cups. Removing the colored trappings revealed a plain, non-descript box. He flipped the box over within his fingers, examining it.

It was just a boring box.

Cautiously lifting the box’s lid, Castiel found, nestled in a bed of tissue paper, a gift card.

Charlie gasped, bumping shoulders with him, angling for a better view. “Is that to where I think it is?”

Castiel only nodded in response, grasping the plastic card by one of its corners. The tan and red of the gift card blurred together the longer he stared at it. It must have been longer than a few moments because he heard a throat clearing close to his left ear.

“Well, your Secret Santa is either really observant, knows you really well, or a stalker.” Charlie let out a half-giggle.

Castiel turned his head, peering at her incredulously. Had she _really_ said stalker? Yes, this person seemed to know all his likes, but was he that hard to read? Look at all those empty Alchemy cups for _chrissakes!_ Meg _had_ always complained about shopping for him on his birthday because she never knew what he wanted, but he had concluded she just hated to shop.

Charlie wrapped a gentle, reaffirming hand around his bicep. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. Anyone walking past the break room could have easily guessed you shop at The Dusty Bookshelf.”

It was true. He only used the free bookmarks the amicable cashiers snuck into your bag at checkout to keep his place in his current read. They were very discernible- coming in a gorgeous highlighter yellow or puke green; _The Dusty Bookshelf_ printed across the length.

Castiel wondered if the bookshop received a significant discount at the print shop for using the offending colors instead of plain white.

It _was_ an easy observation to make.

Charlie pulled her hand away and softly elbowed him in the ribs. “Maybe you’ve got a secret admirer in your Secret Santa?” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

Castiel huffed a small laugh, skimming his thumb over the slick plastic. “Maybe.” A little bubble of warmth began to simmer inside his chest. “Maybe.”


	4. Thursday, December 21

Castiel scowled as he left Alchemy Coffee. Why did Kevin have to look at him with that knowing smile? Like the cat that got the cream? He couldn’t possibly lord this whole Secret Santa thing over him forever, right? _I will learn their identity,_ Castiel thought, his scone and coffee gripped tightly in his hands. _Then, Kevin’s taunts and teasing smirks will be fruitless._

He continued down the sidewalk at a clipped pace toward work, trying to avoid patches of ice left behind by the chilly midnight. He didn’t know why he was in such a hurry to get there. He hadn’t stayed at the coffee shop to enjoy his scone, so there was no reason for his frenzied pace.

Unless.

Was he truly wrought with excitement to see what was waiting for him on his desk? Castiel wagged his head in disbelief. This whole week had put him so out of sorts. Swooning over a few thoughtful presents shouldn’t affect him so much.

Reaching for the large, glass door of the building, Castiel heard, “Mornin’, Clarence” as he yanked upon the handle.

“Good morning, Meg,” he greeted, looking over his shoulder to see the woman approaching him from the left.

“You’re here early,” Meg remarked as she sauntered through the door as he held it open for her.

“Only by a few minutes,” Castiel replied, ignoring the implication in her voice. They strode together over to the elevator; Meg paused as he pressed the call button.

“Someone’s an eager beaver to see what his creepy Secret Santa left today,” Meg quipped as the door to the elevator slid open.

Castiel followed her inside, furrowing his brow in frustration. Did she honestly think he enjoyed these unsolicited gifts? He thought for a moment, turning to face the, now, closed door, trying his damnedest to dismiss the pomposity rolling off his co-worker. Deep down, he had to know he did.

“I bet you’re secretly hoping it’s whats-his-name from the mailroom, huh? Dan? Don?” she said bawdily. “Y’know, he didn’t sign up for the office Secret Santa, either.”

Castiel clenched his jaw. He quickly regretted ever telling her about his crush on Dean after one-too-many margaritas last July. “Don’t be absurd,” he retorted, almost laughing. “He barely knows I’m alive.”

“I dunno. He seems to stroll past the entrance to your cubicle real slow when making his rounds.”

“Pfff. How come the handful of times we’ve spoken he only calls me Cas? He obviously knows my name is Castiel,” he argued, wondering if he was grasping at straws.

“So what! That’s like me calling you Clarence. It’s a nickname.”

“Okay, then. Explain to me how he would know what kind of coffee I drink or where I buy books? Castiel asked, grappling with her reasoning a little too hard. “We’re not friends.”

“Uh, he has eyeballs,” Meg explained, looking up as the elevator dinged to announce their arrival on the second floor. She exited the car and pivoted around to look him in the eye. Her own brown eyes sparkled under the flourescent lights of the office space. “I know you hate all the surprises and unknowns, but this week, you’ve been different. Less curmudgeon-y and uptight. You enjoy being doted on- no matter how hard you deny it. Think about it, Angel.”

Castiel stood, stock-still, just outside the elevator. A light blush colored his already wind-chapped cheeks. She was right. He had appreciated every gift he’d received thus far. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he was a little overwhelmed with the idea of someone putting forth so much effort to find considerate and enjoyable presents for him. Why did he deserve the attention?

Gathering the motivation to set one foot in front of the other, Castiel found himself walking past the glass-fronted mailroom. He slowed his steps as the slope of wide shoulders came into view. Dean’s back was turned toward the expansive window, unaware of anyone watching him. He swiftly shoved letters and large envelopes into cubby-holes, sorting through the trays of mail stacked on a movable cart. His head bobbed to an unheard beat as he worked.  
Castiel wondered what song filled the speakers of his earbuds. Was it some catchy pop tune or edgy punk? Or rap perhaps? There was so much he wanted to learn about him! Whatever it was, it gave Dean the confidence to dance in his workplace. Blue eyes followed the subtle sway of denim-wrapped hips as Dean continued to separate the correspondences. Castiel’s gaze traveled up the strong line of Dean’s back and preceded to where his biceps forced the fabric of his green-plaid flannel shirt to pull taut to accommodate the strain of the muscles working underneath.

Castiel sighed as he lingered at the mailroom window. _The back is just as beautiful as the front,_ he thought as he regarded the other man.

As if he’d heard his inner monologue, Dean spun around to gawk out the window. Castiel startled at being caught creeping, breath escaping his lungs. Dean stood in shock as well, blinking several times at his onlooker. Just as quickly, a smile blossomed across his face in recognition, and he raised a hand in a friendly wave.

Castiel’s breath caught again, and without thinking, dipped his chin in a nod of acknowledgment and scurried away in embarrassment.

What was he thinking, staring at Dean like that? The poor guy probably thought he was a total sleazeball. Castiel groaned in aggravation as he worked his way through the maze of partitions. The only thing that could salvage the whole situation would be to dig a hole, cover himself up, and never emerge again. Or move to Siberia.

He was such an _idiot._

As Castiel contemplated putting his home up for sale and stocking up on long underwear, he came face to face with red hair and a sweater with a snowman smoking a pipe and giving a thumbs up.

“Whoa. You look like your mom caught you with a nudie mag. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face that red,” Charlie commented.

Castiel exhaled through his nose, trying to center himself. “Can I help you with something?”

She looked him over for a moment. Castiel knew she was trying to get a read on him. Was she really concerned with his flustered state?

Shrugging it off, Charlie used her feet to push Castiel’s desk chair away from its original position into a slow, rolling glide. She displayed her hands, as she rolled, like a model from _The Price Is Right_ , bringing Castiel’s attention to the card and gift sitting on his desk.

In his haste to retreat from Dean, he had forgotten all about his Secret Santa. The gift was much larger than from previous days, but it was wrapped in the same Christmas tree paper as yesterday.

Handing his coffee and scone to Charlie, Castiel removed his coat and hung it on the coatrack before walking to his desk. He snatched the envelope up and ripped open the flap with no regard for formalities. The card easily slid from inside to reveal the same Santa portrait. It read:

 

 _In through the door, I flew like a flash_  
set down your gift, I hope it’s a smash!  
Then with a twinkle and gleam in my eye  
I quickly disappeared before you could spy.  
I can’t let you see me, I have to be quick.  
You don’t know my name  
‘cause I’m your secret St. Nick!

 

Castiel set the card on the desk in front of Charlie and lifted the present. It had some weight to it, definitely solid, as he juggled it in his large hands. He flipped it on end and tore into the wrapping paper like a hungry predator tears into its prey’s flesh.

Once everything was discarded, a wooden box was left in its place. It was polished smooth,  
The corners rounded. The dark grain of the wood zig-zagged in wide and thin strips like veins of gold in quartz. On the lid of the box was engraved _Castiel,_ surrounded by ornate designs of vines that swooped and swirled, curling tight below his name. Above was a pair of flowing angel wings, spread wide, encompassing, nearly, the length of the engraved moniker.

Castiel lightly brushed his fingertips across the etching, admiring the beauty and craftsmanship of the box. It was absolutely gorgeous.

The heat from Charlie’s body pressed into his side as she edged closer to get a better look at the box. He glanced to his right to see her lips parted in awe and eyes wide as she took in the beauty of the miniature coffer. “Open it,” she said.

Castiel lifted the wooden lid off the top, exposing a smaller white, paper box tucked inside. The hinges creaked from newness and disuse as he raised the lid to peek at the interior. It was divided into three sections. The largest, on the right, held a folded silk tie. The diagonal stripes were black, royal, and light blue, and they canted down from right to left. The middle section held a matching pocket square. The left section cradled a set of silver-rimmed coordinating cufflinks.

The tie set was just as wonderful as the box. _It must have been expensive,_ he thought. He was overcome with the overwhelming feeling again. He couldn’t accept this. “Charlie,” he breathed out slowly, “what do I do? This is too nice.”

Charlie scoffed. “Tell me about it. The nicest thing I’ve gotten so far is a thirtieth anniversary Blu-ray of _Harry and the Hendersons._ ”

“You’re not helping,” Castiel whined. “It’s too much. I can’t accept this.”

“Sure you can,” she said, leveling him with a stern look, “and you will. Someone went to a lot of trouble to have this made for you, and I know you are squeeing like a fourteen-year-old girl on the inside because you have a necktie fetish. Seriously, you have one for every day of the month. So, put on that devastatingly handsome smile of yours and enjoy the gift.”

Castiel nodded as he closed the box. Charlie was right. Of course, she was. It was a lot, but it also meant someone was thinking of _him_ when they purchased it. And that made him smile the most.


	5. Friday, December 22

Castiel walked up to the counter at Alchemy Coffee with confidence, head held high. It was finally Friday, and it meant he’d get to learn the identity of his Secret Santa today. Nothing Kevin said or did could tarnish his good mood.

“Hey, Cas! Lookin’ good. New tie?” the barista asked with a wink.

Castiel smoothed a hand down his front. “As a matter-of-fact, it is. My Secret Santa gave it to me.” He smiled proudly.

“They have good taste. Looks nice on you.” Kevin turned to the espresso machine. “Usual?”

Castiel shook his head no. “Thank you, Kevin. I thought I’d change it up today. Unless my usual has already been paid for?”

Kevin smiled. “Nah, Santa hasn’t been back.”

Castiel nodded in understanding. “Very well.” He looked at the pastry case in marvel. There were so many decadent choices. “Since it’s nearly Christmas, I will have a peppermint mocha and one of those gooey cinnamon rolls.

Kevin’s smile broadened as he reached for a plate and tongs to retrieve the pastry. “You got it, man.”

Castiel eyed the assortment of pies in the case as he waited and wondered if he should purchase one for Christmas with his family.

Kevin returned with the cinnamon roll and mocha while he was entertaining the idea of showing up at Mother’s with four pie boxes. The look on her face would be priceless. “Seven-fifteen.”

Castiel took out a crisp twenty dollar bill and handed it over. “Keep the change,” he said, a smile curling up over his lips. “Merry Christmas, Kevin.”

“You too,” he beamed. Kevin looked up one last time from the cash register as he collected the change to stuff in the tip jar. His deep brown eyes widened minutely, lips falling apart in surprise.

Castiel’s brows knitted together, squinting in confusion at the change of his demeanor. As if it hadn’t happened, Kevin promptly regained his composure. “Uh, happy holidays.”

Turning around to find a seat, Castiel nearly ran smack-dab into a wall of solid chest. “Pardon me,” he apologized, taking in checks and squares of blues, purples, and pinks. Raising his eyes, he was met with familiar green-hazel ones. “Oh. Hello, Dean.”

Dean grinned at the greeting. “Hey, Cas. Fancy bumping into you here.”

Castiel averted his gaze when Kevin started choking, on what sounded like, his own spit. He sputtered, thumping his fist against his own chest.

“Ah...yes,” Castiel started, cautiously watching the barista. When it seemed Kevin would be okay, Castel returned his attention back to Dean. “Do you come here often?” He winced the moment it left his lips. _God,_ did that sound like the worst pickup line ever or what?

Dean chuckled. “Only when I need a break and a little pick-me-up,” he answered with a wink. “The mail volume is lighter than usual today, so I’m trying to drag it out.”

“That must be nice for you,” Castiel added. “Maybe you can head home early for the long weekend?”

“That’s the plan,” Dean supplied. His eyes flicked down to Castiel’s lips and back, wetting his own lips before speaking again. “Got a big date tonight!” His eyes shimmered like a kid in a candy store.

Castiel’s shoulders slumped fractionally. Of course, he had a date. Why wouldn’t he? He cleared his throat, unsuccessfully dispelling the black mood trying to creep in. “Well, I won’t keep you, then. Enjoy the rest of your day and Merry Christmas.”

The spark in Dean’s eyes dimmed a little, shoulders curving inward. “Yeah, Cas. You too.” He parted his lips in an effort to say something more but seemed to decide against it. He turned around.

Castiel watched as he made his way to the counter to order. Kevin smiled at him like he was meeting an old friend again. Dean was charming and personable, so it shouldn’t be any surprise.

So, why was this itch, that felt a lot like jealousy, so prominent?

Weaving around chairs and tables, Castiel fell heavily onto a mustard yellow loveseat facing the entrance. He sipped at his mocha, letting the flavors of peppermint and chocolate coalesce over his taste buds.

This minor speed bump was not going to mar his good mood. So what if Dean had a date? He never had any delusions of grandeur he’d end up in a relationship with Dean. He had a simple schoolyard crush. Did they even have anything in common besides the need for coffee? Maybe he could find out if their conversations lasted longer than two minutes.

Shaking his head at the idea of getting to know Dean, Castiel sank his teeth into his cinnamon roll. Where would he even start?

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Castiel arrived at his office, Charlie and his Secret Santa gift were waiting for him. “What will you do next week after the presents stop?” he asked, hanging up his coat per usual.

“Go back to hacking Super Pacs and donating the money to my favorite charities, I guess,” Charlie responded nonchalantly, pulling a candy cane from her mouth. “So, you gonna open it?”

Castiel barked a laugh. She couldn’t possibly be more excited than he was. He stopped in front of his desk beside Charlie and glanced at the two envelopes on display. The burgundy one was the norm, of course, but the larger white envelope was not. Was that the gift?

He grabbed for the burgundy envelope, knowing what he’d find inside. Would it be signed today? He opened the folded card and read:

 

 _I’m giggling and laughing_  
and shouting with glee  
I’ve left you another gift  
But you still haven’t seen me!

 

Castiel frowned at the poem and card. There was no signature.

“What’s the matter?” Charlie queried.

“Oh, nothing. I was expecting to find a signature today.”

Charlie looked as disappointed as he felt. “Well, maybe it’s in the other envelope.”

Reaching for the second envelope, he took it in hand. It felt heavier than the first. Was it another card, made of thicker cardstock?

Slicing the sealed flap open, Castiel pulled out a gold-colored single faced card. In the upper right-hand corner was a dinner plate with a fork on one side and a knife and spoon on the other.

It was a reservation card.

 

 **Merry Christmas, Castiel!**  
**Your final gift is dinner and drinks with engaging conversation and wonderful company at 715.**  
**Join me at 7 p.m.- I’ll be the one with the bouquet of candy canes.**  
**Don’t forget to wear your tie!**  
**See you tonight!**

Charlie read the card silently over his shoulder. “Is the last present a date? Are you going on a date?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Castiel said, unsure of what exactly just happened.

“I was right,” she giggled. “Your Secret Santa _was_ a secret admirer!”

“Should I be worried?”

“Of a harmless date? In a public place? No, of course not. If it were at some rando address, that’s another story.” Charlie paused. “You’re still gonna go, right?”

“I...yes?” He was skeptical of the whole thing. 715 _was_ his favorite restaurant in town. How had the Secret Santa known?

It had been a long time since the last time he’d eaten there, and it didn’t necessarily have to be a date. Without knowing the gender of his Secret Santa, it could end up just being dinner with a new friend. Nothing wrong with that. Like Charlie said, it was a public place. They were arriving separately, leaving separately. Nothing to worry about.

Except, what if it was a _real_ date; he hadn’t been on one of those in almost six months. What if he made a complete jackass of himself?

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” Charlie assured.

“I know.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

With the dinner reservations at seven, Castiel didn’t worry about racing home after work to shower or change. He had taken his time washing his body and taming his unruly locks. He even spritzed himself with his favorite cologne.

Walking toward 715, he caught his reflection in a storefront window. He was dressed in pressed slacks; snugger than his usual work dress pants. They wrapped his long legs like skin in charcoal gray that showcased their strength. The navy blue shirt was slim fit and showed off the breadth of his shoulders and firm chest. The new cufflinks peeked just below the edge of his coat sleeves. The jacket was tapered at the waist to accent his trim beltline. He had folded the pocket square into a triangle and neatly stuffed it in the breast pocket. His shined dress shoes glinted off the overhead streetlamp, completing the package. Even if this wasn’t a date, he still wanted to look nice.

He tucked his hands into his pockets as he slogged down the sidewalk, wishing he’d grabbed his trenchcoat to fight off the bitter cold of the winter night. He’d have to grin and bear it until he arrived at the restaurant.

The din of voices from other patrons filled his ears as he closed the entrance door to 715 behind himself. A nervous excitement zipped through his body as he edged closer to the hostess podium. Was he really doing this? Essentially going on a blind date with his Secret Santa? This was nuts!

Castiel scanned the tables briefly, looking for a single diner with a bunch of candy canes. No one matched the description that was already seated. Maybe they weren’t here yet?

He smiled at the hostess when they made eye contact. “Welcome to Seven-fifteen. Do you have a reservation?”

“I’m meeting someone, and I don’t see them. Is it okay to wait at the bar?”

“Of course,” she replied cheerfully. “Let me know when you are ready to be seated.”

Castiel shuffled to the bar area with a nod of thanks. It was a lot more crowded than he would have imagined for the Friday before Christmas. Bodies loitered around high-top tables, clinking glasses in holiday cheer. Forcing his way into an empty space at the bar, he ordered a gin and tonic and turned around to people watch.

Out of the corner of his eye, two patrons down, a familiar curve of shoulders caught his attention. They were cloaked in a dress coat, but he was certain he knew who they belonged to.

Stepping into his personal space, Castiel tapped the man on the shoulder. He was met with dazzling viridescent eyes. “Hello, Dean.”

“Heyyy, Cas! You following me?” Dean laughed, a pink sheen high in his cheeks.

“I’m meeting someone here, actually,” he replied, looking at the people on either side of Dean. They didn’t seem overly friendly with him. “Are you waiting for your date?”

“Not anymore. Just saw them walk in.”

“Oh.” Castiel swiveled to look in the direction of the door, expecting to see a beautiful woman in a glittering dress walk through. He craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of this mystery person. Except- there was no one. _Weird._ He blinked back the bewilderment. Who could he be talking about?

When Castiel turned back to ask Dean to point her out, all he saw were back muscles contorting and stretching in a tight coat. He was reaching back behind himself, trying to retrieve his drink from the bartop.

When Dean untwisted from the peculiar angle, Castiel could see clearly what he had grabbed. It was no drink.

Castiel’s stomach swooped as his breath caught. The tips of his ears heated with uncertainty and surprise. Was this a joke?

A slow smirk climbed Dean’s handsome face. He stuck out his hand in offering; thick fingers wrapped around the bundle, just below the wire-edged ribbon bow. “Candy cane, Cas?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alchemy Coffee, The Dusty Bookshelf, and 715 are all real places in Lawrence, KS. I've never been to any of them, so I took lots of liberties here. :)
> 
> Find me [here](http://deanisthebeesknees.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Come hang out, I play nice.


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